Pain stabs and wrenches my insides just at the worduncoupled.Emotional distress belonging to him.
He tries to be stoic. Eyes cast ahead, marching without misstep. Both of us are already adjusting to the darkness of the tunnel, only light streaming through crumbled holes and cracks in the ceiling.
“Court?” I say. “You may look all right, but I know the truth.”
He blinks, his defenses crashing down as he inhales a tormented breath. “I hate it too,” he whispers.
“Then stop,” I say. “We can take the risk—”
“I can’t… we can’t,” Court retorts, and more sternly, he adds, “Franny, Saltarians will useitagainst us.”
Itbeing the link… being lifebloods.
My eyes sting, too dry to cry. “Then we need to get this all over with, and fast.” I’m adamant, more determination in my steps.
I don’t want to waste another second on Saltare-1. I want to be where Court and Mykal are in each other’s arms and happy. Sodeeplyhappy.
There is no other choice: we need to find the myth baby and make it to Earth. Done and done.
Sewage slushes as we slog along, and I’m surprised when Court breaks the quiet to ask, “Have you pictured life after this?” He speaks so faintly, like these are newborn words. “Have you imagined what our lives will look like if we reach some sort of peace?”
I think he means once we’re on Earth, but he can’t mention the planet here.
“Sometimes.” I nod. “We’re all happy, firstly.”
Court stares far away, our pace slowing.
“Can you see our happiness?” I wonder. He always focuses on survival. For Court, there is nowhenwe reach peace. It is alwaysifandnot now.
“Almost,” he says tightly. “I’m afraid to picture it and then lose it.” His eyes redden, and he snuffs out the hurt that pricks his gaze. Blinking a few times.
The longer they’re uncoupled, the more restrained Court has become. He used to find solace in Mykal’s arms, and I can feel him aching for that embrace again.
Even being Court’s lifeblood, I’m not equivalent to Mykal.
But as his friend, I do what I can, and I reach out and cup his palm.
He takes a breath, clasping firmer.
We pick up our pace, and to distract him from Mykal, I endup asking, “Do you prefer Zimmer or Stork?” One is my friend. The other is something else. I don’t have a word for Stork yet, even if we have kissed.
Softly, Court tells me, “If you ask Mykal, I’m certain he’ll go on and on about which one he prefers more.” He nearly smiles thinking about this, but his mouth forms a line.
Botched it.So much for a Mykal Kickfall distraction.
I already know that Mykal prefers Stork since they share the same pa.
“You prefer Zimmer?” I wonder.
Court stuffs his other hand in his frayed shorts pocket. “Are you asking who I likewith youor in general?”
Now I’m curious, even though Zimmer and I both agreed we’re best asnon-beddingfriends. “With me.”
“I prefer your happiness,” he says smoothly. “But I worry about one of them.”
“Stork?” I’m guessing since he’s still keeping secrets for the admirals.
“No, not Stork.”